Promising Light
by maraudings
Summary: "The sooner you were in your bed and under the covers the sooner you can sleep and dream and pretend life was easier." - for jenn, bts exchange.


**title: **promising light  
><strong>author: <strong>al-tothe-ex (or carpenoctem-x, whichever you know me better as)  
><strong>rating: <strong>t, for underage drinking, and i think one swear word.  
><strong>word count: <strong>1,700  
><strong>disclaimer: <strong>all characters belong to lisi harrison. title from a song by _iron & wine_, which isn't really related to the story, but that's how i normally do it.  
><strong>an: **written for jenn in the back to school exhange.  
><strong>prompts:<strong> skinny dipping with hairy legs, a text message deleted before it's read, a coincidence, anti-jokes as told by joshua hotz.

* * *

><p><em>-promising light-<em>

* * *

><p>Although your mother's parties were always the talk of the town, tonight you just weren't feeling it.<p>

The entire main floor of your sprawling 10,000 square-foot estate was filled with the best of Westchester's social scene. The rich and the worthy all assembled anytime Kendra Block sent out professional invitations, and you had to smile through the night and pretend like you enjoyed hearing about the latest drama.

Tonight the scandal was Sheryl Copper speaking out about the town's apparent 'discrimination problems against the lower classes' at the last town hall meeting.

To be frank you didn't give two shits about old people and their drama. You had your own to worry about. But your mother demanded that you be present and in that new dress she had especially designed for you. It was barbaric, irritating, and partially juvenile- the party, that is. The dress was actually quite lovely.

The upside to a semi-formal event like this was the open bar. It didn't take you long to figure out the bartender didn't want to be here either and really didn't care who got served the drink just as long as the check was waiting for him afterwards. And so with a drink in hand you found a good perch against the doorway of your living room and watched the most envied families in the town eye each other wearily.

"You should come join the real party," A hiss in your ear sent shivers down your spine. Chris Plovert had a funny way of sneaking up on you all the time. "Leave the fine crystal and classical music to our parents."

"But what's more fun than discussing your new curtains?" Chris has been a friend of yours for many years, and with him present the night was sure to turn around. You flash him a grin.

"Oh, I don't know," He draws. "Maybe the kids party going on next door at the Rivera's?"

Ah, of course. Alicia never had the patience to actually _wait_ when hosting the after party. "That could do it, but I don't think I can duck out."

"Do you think your mom will even notice?" He motions towards where the woman stood surrounded by her friends from book club in the classic gossip position. The answer to that question was an obvious 'no'. "Besides, you need to be around your friends right now."

You can't help but look at him, annoyed. But the truth in his statement is prominent. Your friends sounded like just the things you needed. The two of you duck out of the back and trek through the great yard to a gap in the hedge. By the time Chris helped you through you could hear the vibrations of the bass in ground.

The pool in the Rivera's back yard glistened in the light form the house. You could see the unmistakable red hair of a best friend of yours, and the tall and masculine stature of another. Their laughter attracted you like a moth to a flame.

"Massie!" Dylan Marvil called, the curtains of fire framing her face swinging wildly. Next to her, Cameron Fisher raised a hand in hello. "Welcome to the party!"

You spy the host of this occasion emerging from the propped open double French doors. Behind her, you could also see the faces of Claire Lyons and Kemp Hurley, though they seemed to be attached to each other's. "If my mother were to find out that you outdid her, we're going to have a problem on our hands," A smile graces your face as you step up from the grass and unto the stone slab patio.

"Well, you really should give your mother some tips on how to throw a proper party," Alicia Rivera suggested. "I was only in your house for two minutes before coming over here to set things up. Want a drink?"

The half-full glass in your hand is raised. "No thanks, I've already started."

"Well, more for us," Dylan shrugs, taking up a tall shot glass.

Time seemed to pass by. Around you, your friends laughed and drank and partied like the well off teenagers you all were. At one point, Alicia thought it appropriate to strip out of her red satin gown and take a dip in the pool. This you can distinctively remember because of Claire's remark about Alicia's unshaved legs.

Partway through the night, Kemp appears next to you on a poolside chaise.

"How are you doing?" He sounds so sincere and concerning you wanted to slap him.

"I really wish people would stop asking me that."

He sighs. "We're concerned about you. You've been through a lot this past month."

Glancing up and away from the heat of his stare, you resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Yeah, well… I noticed there's a considerable amount of people missing from this little soiree."

From the small bag hanging off your shoulder, your phone quips.

**One new message**

It was a weird coincidence that he should text you at the precise moment he's more or less mentioned. But your thumbs fly over the touch screen display and the message is gone before you could think twice about it.

"Was that him?" Kemp asks. Nothing goes by unnoticed with him around.

"No, my dad," Voice faltering, it's easy to tell that was a lie. But he plays the role of an understanding friend and pretends he believes it.

"Hey-yo!" Josh Hotz's arrival lifted pounds of tension out of the air. He appeared from the house with his tie hung loose around his neck. Alicia gave a yell of greeting from the pool, still treading stark naked in the pool light. He sauntered over to the pools side where Claire, Dylan, and Chris were soaking their feet in the water.

"Glad you could join us Josh," Dylan says. "I was just thinking of joining Leesh for a dip in the pool."

This could have been the only thing to at the time to entice a smile from you. It was widely known amongst their group of friends that Josh was into Dylan, and to see his slack jawed expression at the comment was priceless.

"I think I might have the best timing in the world," He says with a goofy grin.

By the time the night is over and you're certain all the Stepford wives have vacated your house, Dylan still had her clothes on and Kemp was still watching you for any sign of a mental breakdown. You were thankful when Josh was the one to walk you the fifty feet to your house; as the lightweight of the group, he was already buzzed and showing no signs of attempts at comforting her. At least, he was.

"Massie, what's green and has wheels?"

With your back door in sight, you sigh. You didn't really have the patience for his drunken stupidity tonight. "Okay, I'll bite. What?"

"Grass. I lied about the wheels." His giggle is irritating, and somehow you managed to resist hitting him.

You're at your door and freedom, but his arm shoots out and grabs your forearm. "Massie," His voice has taken on a more serious tone. "I tried to get him to come, so you can talk-"

You don't want to hear what else he has to say. "Well I'm glad you didn't. I don't want to see him."

"But listen! He didn't mean to hurt you, and he really does lov-"

"Good night, Josh," Shaking out of his grip, you have the door slammed in his face before he could protest.

Your house was eerily quiet. There were no partygoers in sight (you suspected that they all had to make their ten o'clock bedtimes) and the caterers had all gone home. But you knew that that façade your family put up for these past three hours was broken. Tomorrow morning your dad would be back living in the townhouse on the other side of the city and no one would know it was any different. Now, you could hear his snores pierce the night from the living room sofa.

You never really understood how much it sucked for your parent's to separate until it actually happened.

But you try hard not to think about it. The sooner you were in your bed and under the covers the sooner you can sleep and dream and pretend life was easier. You could pretend that the people you surrounded yourself with were all great choices and they didn't do anything to hurt you. The thing about pretending, though, is that in the back of your mind you know it's not the truth.

You were expecting your mother's bedroom door to be tightly shut. You were expecting her to not wait for you to return. You were expecting that stupid family portrait taken last year to stare you down from the end of the hallway as you twist the door handle of your room. You weren't, however, expecting to see Derrick Harrington sitting on the end of your bed waiting for you.

Damn your insistence on the room with the small balcony.

He stands when you walk in. "Massie," He starts. "Um, hey."

You don't know what to say, except, "Why are you here?" Although you know the answer to that question.

He makes to move closer, but your glare convinces him otherwise. "I'm sorry, Massie. We didn't actually do anything; it was all just a misunderstanding-"

"Derrick," Your voice doesn't waiver, and this time you're thankful for that. "Honestly I don't want to hear it. Just get out, please."

"But I need you to understand that nothing happened with Carrie-"

"Get out," You repeat. Why did he never listen to you?

He looks at you almost mournfully. "Fine. But I at least want you to know that I'm not your dad. I didn't," He pauses, no doubt searching for the right word to place here. "_betray_ you, like he did. I'd never do that. Just please, believe me."

You can feel the tears threatening to spill over. "Just leave, Derrick." Your voice is just above a whisper.

And when he finally does leave, you're in your bed with the covers pulled tightly over your head.


End file.
